


Officium

by daimonas



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Buckle up folks, But I decided as soon as I started writing that I didn't like that, Eventual Romance, I have no idea what I'm doing but I'm having fun, It's my first attempt at a slow burn don't judge me, M/M, Semi Soul Mate AU, Slow Burn, So here's my excuse of a Vampire/Werewolf AU, This started out as an "Underwold" AU, VERY MINOR ABO DYNAMICS BUT THEY THERE, Vampire Ignis Scientia, Vampire Noctis Lucis Caelum, Violence, Werewolf Gladiolus Amicitia, Werewolf Prompto Argentum, thank you for coming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-06-27 07:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19786093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daimonas/pseuds/daimonas
Summary: In a world where vampires and werewolves were once at war with one another, a temporary peace has been found in the way of the Bonding Ceremony. Noctis, a vampire and first in line for Throne after King Regis, has been scheduled to find his Bondmate and continue the tradition of peace. However, what was supposed to be an easy Bonding Ceremony becomes increasingly tense after he meets one of the potential Bond candidates, Gladio Amicitia. The werewolf acts in a way that sets Noctis off, making him wonder, for the first time, if the Bonding Ceremony is actually such a good idea after all.In other words, this is an AU where my 13 year-old self meets my 25-year old self and they collab on a fanfiction together.





	1. The Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended song for this chapter: [MEPHISTOPHELES](https://open.spotify.com/track/4wzdk7CaO7RUOGLU8tphCR?si=MYHH2UC3SASe23AOJxnHHg) \- CRYWOLF.

Fate, destiny, duty. Three words that all mean the same thing to a prince like Noctis – he is fated, he is destined, it is his _duty_ to carry out a life planned for him since before his conception. But those three words are bullshit in the arms of a lover.

“I don’t want to leave,” Noctis admits, his voice sounding petulant even in his ears. “I don’t want to marry her.”

The warrior holding him heaves a heavy sigh and releases him, taking a step back to hold the prince at arm’s length. Noctis brings his gaze up until he finds brown eyes glowing amber by the firelight. Everything about the warrior exudes strength – his physique, the way he hardens his gaze in the prince’s direction – but his eyes show otherwise. He could harden his expression all he wants, but _nothing_ could mask the longing sadness that fills the depth of those amber orbs.

“You have to,” the warrior says, his voice sturdy despite the inner turmoil Noctis could easily tell he was experiencing. “It’s your duty to uphold the peace.”

Noctis scoffs and takes a step back from the warrior, out of his arm’s length. His eyes gaze disbelieving over the warrior’s form. “My _duty_? Really? You, too?”

“Me, too.”

The words are simple, but final. There will be no more discussion on the topic.

“Fine,” Noctis retorts, splaying his hands in an off-handed gesture – as if ridding himself of the topic altogether. “Guess I’ll go carry out my _duty,_ then.”

He stalks forward, shouldering past the warrior as he does. His heart breaks when he doesn’t feel the warrior reach for him, when he doesn’t hear him call out for him to stop walking. The warrior lets him go and Noctis continues walking, feeling as if - with every passing footstep - he leaves more and more of himself behind.

Duty is the death of love. Fate, destiny, duty. Three words that all mean the same thing for a prince like Noctis. If he were to follow his fate, succumb to his destiny, carry out his duty – he would lose the man he loves. He would lose the part of himself that proved he was so much more than the heir to the Lucis name. He would lose the part of himself that made him more human, less monster.

He’d be damned if he was going to let that happen.

**\------- _2 years earlier_ \-------**

“Prince Noctis. It’s time for you to wake up.”

The voice comes from the doorway on the far side of the room. Noctis’s eyes creak open, his vision blurred in the early hours of the night but still able to make out the defined features of Ignis standing in the doorway. Noctis heaves a heavy sigh, glancing towards the curtained window by his bed. He can still see the faint lines of the sunset – orange and rustic over the city of Insomia. He squints at the waning sunlight and visibly hisses as if in pain.

“There’s no need for dramatics, now,” Ignis chides, stepping into the room finally and closing the door behind him. He walks over to the very window that Noctis had just hissed at and flings open the blinds without any sort of warning. Noctis squeezes his eyes shut and groans, pulling his blankets over his eyes to hide from the sun.

“If the sun is still up, it’s too early,” Noctis complains from his shelter under the blankets.

“If we were only awake when the sun is down, we would only have 8 hours a day that we were awake, and 16 of them spent asleep. That reasoning is absurd, Noctis.”

“You’re absurd.”

“…Quite,” Ignis retorts, very obviously over Noctis’s petulance already. “Anyway, you have a long night ahead of you. Or do you not remember that today is the day you meet your Guardian?”

_Oh. Right._

The ceremony for bonding a vampire to their werewolf counterpart was as long as it was rigorous. It involved sparring matches with each potential candidate to see which one the vampire worked best with, followed by hours of meditation to complete the bond between Guardian and Ward. Because of the extent of the task, only upper-class and royal vampires (like Noctis) are able to bond with their Guardian. “Lower” vampires still receive Guardians when they come of age, but the Bond is essentially nonexistent, leading a lot of Guardians to either quit their job or the pair of them never fully coming to trust each other - the relationship ending in a bloody battle between the two.

“I remember now,” Noctis says finally, moving the blankets off his face to rub at his eyes with his knuckles. He slowly opens his eyes after, letting his eyes adjust to the light before turning his gaze over to Ignis. “How is your Guardian doing?”

“Prompto is doing exemplary, “ Ignis states, turning from Noctis and walking over to the prince’s wardrobe. He opens the doors to the wardrobe, revealing the wall of black clothing before him. He _tsks_ lightly, giving a slight shake of his head. “Honestly, do you own anything other than black?”

“I don’t know. _You’re_ the one that usually buys my clothes.”

“At _your_ command, Your Highness,” Ignis says as he starts sifting through the different suits Noctis owns. “Oh well. It’s as regal as any color. I think this one will do nicely.”

Ignis turns towards Noctis again, this time holding a suit in hand. It’s one of Noctis’s plain black ones, the vest under the jacket an intricate black and gold design. The shirt itself is black, blending nearly entirely with the jacket. Noctis sighs and runs a hand over his face as he finally sits up and rolls out of bed. His feet hit plush carpet, but the air in his room is cold, causing him to shudder when it hits the bare skin of his chest.

“You know, if you actually wore clothes to bed, you wouldn’t wake up cold.”

“Clothes are uncomfortable,” Noctis replies, accepting the suit from Ignis and walking over to his washroom to get dressed. Ignis busies himself making Noctis’s bed as the prince changes, deciding not to comment further on his current lack of clothing. They’d had this discussion before, several times, but no matter what Ignis says, Noctis practically _refuses_ to listen. As he said, clothes are uncomfortable. Why compromise his sleep because of the simple _potential_ that someone would enter his room? The only person that ever comes in is Ignis and Ignis practically raised him, despite how close they were in age.

Noctis emerges from the washroom around ten minutes later – hair fixed as best as he could get it, teeth brushed, and suit in place. He looks like a completely different person in the short amount of time he spent actually getting ready. 

As soon as the door opens and he steps out, he catches whiff of another scent in the room – one that’s not Ignis’s. His eyes move over, following the trail of the scent, to find Prompto lazing comfortably on his bed.

“You look comfortable,” Noctis teases. Despite Prompto having bonded with Ignis, he and Noctis are still close. They get along well, despite their races’ combined history.

“Oh! Your Highness! Hello!” Prompto exclaims, rolling off the bed quickly to give a deep, courteous bow in Noctis’s direction. He pops up a second later, the smile on his face wide. “I, uhh – got bored. Sorry.”

Noctis rolls his eyes, but turns his attention from the Guardian to face Ignis. He holds his arms out, presenting his outfit. “Well. How do I look?”

Without answering, Ignis walks over, reaching out to adjust Noctis’s tie. Noctis huffs and turns sheepish eyes away from Ignis and towards Prompto. Prompto is very obviously fighting off a smile as Ignis corrects Noctis’s haphazard attempt at tying his tie.

“Shut up,” Noctis says, though Prompto hadn’t said anything.

Prompto holds up his hands in mock surrender, turning away from the prince to flop back onto his bed. Just as he lands, Ignis backs away, casting a quick, calculating glance over Noctis’s physique.

“There,” Ignis says, raising his chin with a proud grin on his face. “A look fit for a king.”

Noctis feels his stomach churn. He can deal with _prince._ He can deal with _Your Highness._ But when anyone referred to him as ‘King,’ he always felt.. odd. Like the title didn’t belong to him. His father was king, and always would be. Noctis would not rule because his father would live forever.

_More like you just don’t want that kind of responsibility._

“Thanks,” he mutters, clearing his throat before finally looking at Ignis.

“Ready, Your Highness?”

“Ready.”

\-------

The Bonding ceremony doesn’t begin for another few hours and Noctis spends the time beforehand _bored._

Him, Ignis, and Prompto make their way across the Estate and into the main common area – filled to the brim already with potential Bondmates and other vampires of note. The mix of smells within the area is a little overwhelming, but Noctis gives no indication of the intrusions to his nose. He smiles when he should, accepts drinks and food when he should, and does everything he’s been taught to be as courteous as possible. As he makes his way around the room, greeting guests and welcoming them to his home, he keeps his eyes out for potential Bondmates. There are several that catch his attention – a few males and one female – but none catch his eye quite as much as the leather-clad, 6’2 brawn of muscle eyeing him from across the room with the heaviest look of cocky disinterest Noctis has ever seen.

Naturally, Noctis makes his way over to him, Ignis and Prompto hot on his heels.

“Uhh, Noct, maybe don’t –“ Prompto starts when he notices who Noctis is heading towards, but his words fall on flat ears as they finally get within range of the Guardian. Prompto goes quiet and Noctis notices out of the corner of his eye the smaller Guardian bow his head, taking a couple steps _back_ as Noctis approaches.

Weird.

“Hello,” Noctis says, shaking off the strange incident. Why had Prompto bowed to this guy?

“Hello,” the man answers, his voice a deep grumble in his chest. He casts an appraising look over Noctis’s body and Noctis feels himself hold still as the other man studies him – instinctively standing up straighter, taller, trying to _impress_ the Guardian. But… why?

“I’m Noctis,” he says when the Guardian’s brown eyes finally meet his again. There’s no change to his expression – no change to let Noctis get even an inclination of what he’s thinking. Does he like what he sees? Is he impressed? “And you are?”

The man is silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving Noctis’s own gaze. The silence is long enough to grow uncomfortable and Noctis shifts from one foot to the other, raising an eyebrow in slight annoyance. He tries again. “Are you going to tell me your name or are we just –“

“Sure are impatient, aren’t ya, _Your Highness_ ,” the man says, obvious sarcasm laced into the title. Noctis feels himself prickle at the insult and the man only smiles. “But if you need my name so bad, it’s Amicitia. Gladio Amicitia.”

As he says his name, he stretches out one long, very tattooed arm – holding out his palm for Noctis to take. Noctis looks at the outstretched palm, staring at it for a few seconds before bringing his gaze back to Gladio’s. He doesn’t take the hand as he says, “Well, _Amicitia_ , I look forward to working with you.”

The words are stretched thin, Noctis’s obvious annoyance prevalent in his voice. There’s something about this guy that rubs Noctis the wrong way.. It’s almost like he expects the world to answer to him, despite being nothing more than a common Guardian.

Truthfully, it pisses Noctis off.

There’s a glint in Gladio’s eye as his palm drops and he breaks his indifferent expression with the barest glint of a smile – like he’s _amused_ that Noctis is annoyed. That fact alone is enough to piss Noctis off further and he turns without another word, stalking away from the lumbering Guardian. Gladio calls something after him, but Noctis doesn’t hear what he says and doesn’t care to try to figure it out.

When they’re a safe enough distance away, outside of the room, Noctis whirls on Prompto. Prompto grits his teeth, obviously bothered by something, but doesn’t flinch away from Noctis’s sudden anger.

“Care to explain just who the hell that guy thought he was?” Noctis asks, his voice leaking with the full extent of his anger.

Prompto’s eyes widen for a moment, like he can’t believe Noctis doesn’t know. That same feeling comes back – the annoyance that Gladio had carried himself like the world owed _him_ something – just by seeing Prompto’s expression.

“Dude, that’s like, that head honcho for the rest of us werewolves here in Insomnia,” Prompto says, as if this is a fact everyone knows. He drives the point home by asking, “How do you _not_ know who _Gladio Amicitia_ is?”

Noctis grits his teeth, his eyes narrowing. “If I _knew who he was,_ I wouldn’t be _asking you_ , Prompto.”

Prompto sighs and reaches up to scratch the back of his head, shifting from one foot to the other as if uncomfortable with their conversation now. “Well, now you know. Gladio is the closest thing we have to a leader. It _was_ his dad, until his dad bonded to yours.”

Noctis startles at that. “I didn’t even know Clarus had a son.”

“And a daughter,” Ignis says, finally chiming in. He puts his hand on Noctis’s shoulder, trying to calm the prince’s rising anger. “Noctis, it would behoove you _not_ to get on the Amicitia’s bad side. They are the ones responsible for keeping the peace between our clans. As are you.”

Noctis scoffs and looks away, shrugging Ignis’s hand off of his shoulder. “Well, he should learn how to talk to people.”

“He could kill you with his bare hands if he wanted to,” Prompto chimed in, his voice a gentle warning but obviously still impressed by this Gladio character.

“I’d like to see him try.”

“I wouldn’t test it if I were you.”

Noctis sighs at that and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to reign in his anger. The ceremony was to start soon. He needed a clear mind if this was going to go the way it needed to. “Alright,” he says, rolling his shoulders and turning his attention back to the common room. “Let’s get this over with.”

Noctis shoulders between the two in front of him, making his way back into the common room. His eyes scan the room quickly for Gladio, but he sees no trace of the Guardian’s massive form.

_Good. Hope he’s not here to try to Bond because that is_ _not_ _happening._

The rest of the opening party goes smoothly and Noctis manages to narrow his initial interest in Guardians to a male and a female. Both of them are well-respected within their own community and eager to help Noctis achieve his goals as King. The man is a little rough around the edges, but still respectful – something that Noctis admires in others. The female seems to be a bit of a spitfire, but willing to take on any danger that could possibly come their way.

When the opening ceremony comes to an end, Noctis makes his way further into his Estate and out the main doors into the courtyard. Usually, the courtyard is covered in a beautiful arrangement of flowers, fountains, and the like, but not today. Today, the courtyard has been converted into an arena – one with towering walls and rows of benches. People from all around Insomina have come to watch his Bonding ceremony – especially the tournament beforehand that would indicate his best match.

Noctis makes his way to the head of the arena, to where his father is already posted, with Ignis and Prompto following steadily behind him. His father nods as he approaches. To his right, Noctis sees Clarus posted and watching, sword drawn and placed tip-down on the metal framework of the platform he and the King were positioned on - the two pillars of the long-standing peace between their races.

Years ago, before Noctis was even born, the vampires and werewolves had been at war. It had been that way since the dawn of time with no real reason behind it; it was as if it were in their blood to hate each other. It took until Regis became King, until Noctis’s mother had died in a raid from the werewolves, that a solution had been brought to the table in the form of the Bonding Ceremony. Turns out, both races had a specific link to one another that could take the form of a Bond. However, this “link” can also cause aggression towards those who aren’t bonded - hence the deep-seated hatred between races at the time. Regis was the one that had noticed his bond with Clarus and had gotten Clarus to agree to figure out what, exactly, was going on any time they were near each other. It took weeks, but eventually the Bond solidified into Guardian and Ward; thus, the Bonding Ceremony was born.

Ever since, the all-out war has stopped. There are still tensions, especially by those that can’t perform the Bonding Ceremony and, therefore, remain instinctively aggressive; but the war is over. And even though the races are split into “Guardian” and “Ward,” those are only terms. The Peace remains because they are all treated as equals. The line of succession to the Throne remains, but Clarus is just as much a king as Regis himself, just as whomever Noctis would find himself bound to tonight will be king alongside him.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” Clarus says as Noctis climbs the stairs to the platform, bowing slightly in greeting.

“’Evening, Clarus. Father.”

Noctis nods to each man in turn before taking his position in the chair next to his father. His father smiles as he sits down.

“My son. Are you excited to find your Bonded Guardian?”

“Whatever.”

Noctis isn’t sure what it is that causes him to rebuff his father’s advances, but he always feels.. lesser in his father’s presence. He’s never just his son. He’s the Prince of Lucis, the Heir to the Throne. He must always be on duty in his father’s presence, must always remember who he is and what he’s destined to do.

He hates it.

His father seems to pick up on this today and lets his smile fade before turning his attention back to the crowd at hand. They wait until the stands are filled before his father finally stands to give his announcement and welcome.

“My friends!” he begins, standing to draw attention to himself on the dais. He hobbles forward, cane in hand, as he continues his address. “Welcome to my home. I do hope you all have found your evenings enjoyable so far. The time has come for my son, Prince Noctis, to find his Bonded Guardian!” He pauses for a round of applause before continuing. “To those Guardians that have been chosen, we ask that you come forward now.”

Everyone in the room seems to pause, looking around the room to try to find the chosen Guardians before they reach the stage. A total of ten people come forward, including the male and female that Noctis had met earlier, as well as Gladio. When Gladio walks onto the stage, a hush falls over the crowd for a mere moment before they break into an even louder whisper than before. Noctis tries to listen to what’s being said, but his attention is captured by the enormous man standing in the center of the arena and looking at everyone except for him.

Man, he pisses Noctis off.

“Your Highness,” Gladio calls, bowing in the direction of Noctis’s father. “It is an honor to finally meet you. I hope that I can make you proud.”

Noctis looks over at his father to see him beaming, then over to Clarus. For the first time in his life, Noctis sees Clarus giving the faintest hint of a smile. Noctis grits his teeth, bringing a cold glare back in Gladio’s direction. Where had this politeness been earlier?

“And you as well, young Amicitia,” Regis responds with a short nod of his head. Gladio steps back into line with the other Guardians as Regis continues. “You all will be tested, along with my son, to see which of you best matches him in combat. Are you all ready?”

“Sir!”

The response is unanimous, all Guardians standing at attention and bowing quickly to the King. The crowd in the stands erupts in applause and Regis waits until it dies back down before he exclaims: “Then let this Bonding Ceremony begin!”

Noctis sighs, long and slow, before standing and removing his jacket. He turns to hand it to Ignis before walking past his father and back down the stairs towards the arena. All of the Guardians file off, giving the Prince his space – all except for one.

“Good luck, _Your Highness_.”

Noctis scowls at Gladio, wanting nothing more than to punch the cocky smirk off his face. He says nothing and Gladio chuckles, finally turning to walk off the arena and await his turn to fight with the prince.

“First up, Cor Leonis. Please come forward!”

The male that Noctis had taken an interest in nods and breaks line with the other Guardians, coming back into the arena with Noctis. Noctis sighs in relief, glad he doesn’t have to start with Gladio, and greets Cor with a nod once he’s within range.

“Fight well,” Noctis says, readying his stance. The pants of his suit stop him from being able to get a complete defensive stance, but it’d have to do. Not like he had much of a choice at this point, anyway.

“Your Highness,” Cor says, respectfully bowing his head before drawing his sword.

They wait for the signal – a thunderous beat of a drum – before Cor is rushing forward, sword at his side to allow for balance as he runs. Noctis readies himself, watching Cor’s movements as he approaches. He expects the Guardian to come for a full-frontal attack with the way he’s running, but he seems to disappear last second. Noctis startles, completely unaware of where Cor could have gone, before catching sight of something to his left. He calls his sword to him just in time to block Cor’s attack, a cheer from the crowd erupting once again as their swords collide.

“Good block,” Cor compliments as Noctis pushes him off.

Noctis doesn’t respond, too focused on retaliating so that he doesn’t spend the entire fight on the defensive. He warps to the side, out of Cor’s reach before warping forward again, coming in over Cor. Apparently, Cor is used to fighting against a warp because he throws his sword up just in time to block Noctis’s attack. Noctis warps out again - just behind Cor - and runs forward, slashing his sword up to try to bring it to the back of Cor’s leg. He finds purchase, but barely; slicing through the thin fabric of Cor’s pants and nicking some of the soft skin of his thigh.

“ _Very_ good,” Cor says once he’s danced out of the way. Noctis doesn’t give him time to recover before he’s running forward again, stabbing his sword directly at Cor. Cor deflects and spins to the side, stiffening his grip on his sword as Noctis passes by to cause the tip to cut into Noctis’s side. Pain flashes across Noctis’s vision, but not enough to make him cry out. He barely feels it in his adrenaline-riddled state.

Noctis quickly turns, swinging his sword down onto Cor’s again and again, pushing the older male back to the edge of the arena. Cor continues backing up until he sees an opening, ducking under Noctis’s sword and stabbing upwards, embedding the sword into Noctis’s shoulder. Noctis grunts and finally backs away from the other male, only to see him advancing with his sword again. Noctis groans, switching his grip on his sword since he doesn’t think he can lift his right arm at the moment, and deflects Cor’s attacks. He’s already starting to get tired – especially with the giant gash to his shoulder – so finding an opening is hard. Cor isn’t giving him a break, isn’t letting him take time to think of a way out of the situation, he just keeps pushing, and pushing, until –

_There._

Noctis spins out of the way of a descending sword arc, sliding his sword up Cor’s until it finally releases with a resounding ring across the arena. They both stop moving, standing still as statues with the point of Noctis’s sword held to Cor’s throat. Thankfully, Cor had seen his impending doom coming and had had the reaction time to lean back, lest Noctis’s sword be impaled into his throat.

“Checkmate,” Noctis says, breathing heavily. Cor grins at him, nodding in respect, before taking a step back. He bows to Noctis and makes his leave of the arena.

As much as Noctis had wanted there to be a bond between them, he hadn’t felt it during their fight. Cor had been a worthy adversary, sure, but he didn’t feel the _link_ – the single thing he was looking for that would insure a successful Bond. He sighs, taking a deep breath and wincing in pain as he remembers the stab wound to his shoulder. He rubs at his shoulder absently, rolling it a bit to check the movement in the joint. It sends a sharp stab of pain through his upper back and he groans, turning to walk towards the healing table at the edge of the arena. It takes no time at all for the wound to be healed (it wasn’t as deep as he had initially thought), so within minutes, he’s standing back in the middle of the arena waiting for his next opponent.

The next series of battles pass nearly as expected – all of the Guardians fighting to the best of their ability with Noctis, but none of them having the _feeling_ about them that Noctis needs. He’s growing increasingly frustrated with not finding his match; especially when the other person he had been interested in – the female, Aranea – doesn’t have the Bond link, either. The more people he fights, the closer he gets to forming a potential Bond link with _him._

It’s the last thing he wants.

Battle number 9. The battle before the last candidate. Thankfully, the other male is called – one of the ones that Noctis had been interested in originally. Noctis may have momentarily written him off, but _anything_ was better than having to be bonded to Gladio.

The battle begins and Noctis is so frustrated with his current circumstance that he acts on impulse, immediately warping forward the moment the drum sounds. He apparently catches the candidate off-guard and the poor guy barely has time to raise his sword before Noctis is descending on him. He catches his balance, though, and begins to retaliate with swings of his own. Noctis feels his frustration grow the longer the battle goes on without getting the _feeling._

_But it has to be him._ _Please_ _be him. This is the last chance I have left._

No matter how hard he tries, though, he never senses the link. Apparently, neither does the other male, because after sparring for around five minutes without either one of them taking the upper-hand, the guy dances to the side and drops his sword, holding his hands in the air as the sword clatters to the ground. There’s a slight gasp in the crowd as Noctis is rushing forward, blindly following his instinct to _finish this,_ before he realizes last second what’s happened. To prevent accidentally stabbing the surrendered opponent, Noctis warps out of the way, landing just behind the Guardian.

“What the _hell_ ?!” Noctis yells, whirling on the Guardian, fangs bared. “ _Why did you just stop?”_

“There’s no link forming, Your Highness,” the male says, matter-of-factly. He swallows, obviously nervous being the target of the prince’s anger. “I apologize if I’ve disrespected you. I just thought we could both sense that there was no point in continuing.”

“ _No point?_ ” Noctis calls, jabbing his sword in the direction of Gladio. “The _point_ is that if I don’t bond to you, then I have to bond to _him_.”

The words are out before he can stop them. He knows he’s disgracing himself, his father, Clarus, and Gladio in one statement, but he can’t help it. Noctis had known Gladio for all of an hour and had _hated him_ in the first two minutes of meeting. There is _no way_ he’s going to form a Bond with him.

“Noctis!” Regis calls from his throne at the head of the arena.

Noctis grinds his teeth together, tightening his grip on his sword before whirling away from the Guardian who’s looking at him like he still doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“Whatever,” Noctis says for the second time that night.

He walks over to the healing table, getting his wounds tended to again for the ninth time that night. He grabs a vial of warmed blood and knocks it back in a single go, feeling his wounds immediately start to close on their own. He lets out a long, low, resigned sigh once he’s gathered his composure again and sets the vial to the side, thanking the nurses for tending to him before getting up to walk back to the arena.

Gladio is already there when Noctis approaches the arena. Noctis glowers at him as he crests the stairs and Gladio grins, his cocky expression even worse now that he had a sword as big as Noctis in his hand. He has the sword slung over his shoulder casually, as if the two of them are about to have a nice chat instead of beating the shit out of each other to form a Bond.

“Try not to look so disappointed, Your Highness,” Gladio says, his voice teasing. The fury that Noctis had buried between the last match and this immediately rears its head again and he bears his fangs at the Guardian standing across from him. Gladio chuckles and says, “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than that to get me scared of you, pretty boy.”

Noctis hisses, bouncing on his feet, ready to charge forward and get this over with as soon as possible.

“Ready for me, Prince Noctis?” Gladio goads, swinging his sword over his shoulder to get into a more battle-ready stance. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for Noctis to answer.

“Bring it on,” Noctis answers, his voice dry as he calls his sword to him to prepare himself.

They wait, one second, two seconds, three…

The drum sounds and they rush forward, the sound of clashing swords reverberating through the arena.


	2. The Ceremony Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening for this chapter: [Born for This](https://open.spotify.com/track/6Rw5FkZ5WJlQMbNlwPp3Qn?si=vP4txxMPRz-emfny_JC5CQ) \- Royal Deluxe.

The sound of swords clashing fills Noctis’s ears, drowning out every other sound from the arena. He no longer hears the cheering crowd, or the fading sound of the battle drum. He hears the clash of his sword against Gladio’s and his own slow, exhaled breath. Despite the intensity of the room around them, everything seems to slow down to this single moment. A wave of energy courses through Noctis – one he’s never felt before – and suddenly his limbs feel heavier than before. Gladio seems to feel it, too, because when their eyes meet, the werewolf’s are glazed and distant – like he’s trying to focus but can’t through the haze weighing him down.

The temporary haze clears the moment Noctis takes a step back, however. As soon as his back foot touches the ground and there’s slack between the two men’s swords, the sounds of the erupting arena crash into Noctis’s senses again. He shakes his head, shaking away the remains of his weakness before steeling himself to attack again. Only, when he begins taking a step forward, he realizes the bigger male isn’t there anymore. He feels his eyes widen in surprise until he hears to his right, “Too slow.”

He doesn’t have time to react before there’s a bludgeoning pain to his back, right between his shoulder blades. He gets knocked forward and loses his balance, nearly crashing onto the floor. He remembers to warp last second and warps as far as he can away, turning at the last second to face in the direction he’d been hit. Gladio is already rushing him, sword raised, eyes focused on his target. Noctis feels a spike of fear pierce his chest – there’s _no way_ he’s going to be able to stop that sword if Gladio brings it down at full strength.

_What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Fuck! Focus!_

Just as Gladio finally reaches him, Noctis narrows his own gaze towards the werewolf and warps away. He feels a brush of something against his mind again and he brushes it off, turning hard eyes in his opponent’s direction. Gladio’s guard is down – the Guardian seemingly recovering from something – and Noctis uses the opportunity to warp again in Gladio’s direction. He appears right next to the larger man and mimics his earlier words.

“Too slow.”

Noctis swings his foot out just before he hits the ground, landing a solid kick into Gladio’s side. It knocks the Guardian off balance and away from him, giving him enough time to raise his sword and rush forward. Gladio finally regains his composure just as Noctis is swinging his sword down and dances out of the way as best he can. Noctis manages to drag the tip of his sword down Gladio’s sword arm and he watches Gladio wince, but he doesn’t even get a moment to feel triumphant about drawing first blood before Gladio is raising his sword above his head and descending on Noctis.

They trade blows back and forth a few times, neither man holding the lead over the other for long. As they battle, the same clouded sensation keeps crawling into Noctis’s mind. Every time it does, he notices a reaction in Gladio, and the feeling of dread he’d felt earlier in the evening fills his chest.

The clouded feeling he’s experiencing is no doubt the Link and the reason he sees a reaction in Gladio is because the Guardian is experiencing it, too.

Noctis tries to fight the sensation. He lets out a cry when a particularly strong wave does enough to stun both him and Gladio in the middle of combat and he rushes forward, shoving the sensation as deep into his consciousness as he’s able. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to have a Bond with Gladio.

_You don’t have a choice._

The words startle Noctis just as his sword clashes with Gladio’s. He swears he heard the words in his mind, but when his eyes meet Gladio’s through their crossed blades, he sees the same annoyed expression reflected in the Guardian’s face. He realizes he hadn’t heard the words in his mind, that Gladio had spoken them, but how…?

“Shut up!” Noctis yells, pushing away from the Guardian. He immediately swings his sword back down and Gladio easily parries it, shoving back against Noctis’s thrust hard enough that it knocks Noctis off balance. The Prince stumbles but catches himself, readying himself for Gladio’s advance. Only, the Guardian isn’t advancing. He’s standing across from Noctis, sword down at his side, his breathing heavy and ragged but his expression cold and calculating. It causes Noctis to pause again, his breathing just as heavy as they watch one another.

“Well,” Noctis hears from the area across the arena after a full minute of silence. He realizes, suddenly, that the entire arena had fallen quiet while he and Gladio had stood staring at each other. Regis was the one that had spoken and he was doing it to break the silence of the arena. “It seems a Bond has been started.”

The entire arena erupts in cheers. Noctis holds Gladio’s gaze for a moment longer before he feels his face contort in annoyance. This entire Bonding process is necessary, he knows, but it doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.

“Let’s get this over with, I guess,” Noctis mumbles, turning away from the crowd and towards his father. His father is smiling at him, but there’s hardness around his eyes that Noctis knows is anger. Apparently, the King is not going to let his son off the hook for his behavior. Noctis sighs and turns away from the King to begin heading towards the Room of Bonding. As he passes Gladio, the Guardian falls in step behind him.

The Room of Bonding, at first glance, doesn’t appear to be anything special. It’s a large, cylindrical room draped with heavy, maroon curtains and plush leather seating. There’s a fireplace on the far wall that’s currently lit, warming the room to a nearly unbearable temperature. Paintings of past Bonding Ceremonies adorn the walls, including the one of King Regis and Clarus hanging just above the fireplace. All of this appears normal, until one realizes that all the furniture in the room, along with all of the paintings, are designed to draw attention to the center of the room.

In the central part of the room is a single rug, barely large enough for two people to sit on. It’s on this rug that the Bonding Ceremony takes place. Bond Mates are required to sit cross-legged across from one another and meditate for hours, focusing on their potential Bond. If the Bond has not been solidified after an hour, there is a potion designed to open up the minds of both Guardian and Ward. Once the mind is open, it’s easy for the Link to establish itself and easier still for the Bond to form.

Noctis hesitates in the doorway of the room, causing Gladio to bump into him lightly at his sudden stop. Noctis scowls at Gladio’s mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Watch where you’re walking next time.”

“Again, sorry, _Your Highness_.”

Noctis feels his scowl deepen and he lets out a deep, heavy sigh before entering the room entirely. He walks to the center, just outside of the rug. Gladio follows suit and they glance in each other’s direction for the briefest of moments before Noctis hears a commotion outside in the hall. He glances towards the still-open door just as his father and Clarus turn the corner and enter.

“Do you mind explaining what your outburst was all about?” Regis asks, his voice stern. The disappointment he feels in Noctis is palpable in his words.

“Ask him,” Noctis answers simply, nudging his chin in Gladio’s direction.

Both Regis and Clarus look in Gladio’s direction. Gladio raises an eyebrow at Noctis’s accusation and says, “Me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Noctis seeths. “You’ve been nothing but disrespectful to me since the moment we met in the lobby.”

“And what, exactly, have you done to earn my respect?”

Noctis’s body moves on its own and suddenly he’s rushing forward, hands outstretched. Just as he’s about to wrap his fingers into the leather of Gladio’s jacket, he feels a rush of wind and suddenly Clarus is standing between them, back turned to Noctis.

“That’s enough,” Clarus says, his voice stern. Noctis can’t see his face, but he’s sure it’s twisted in anger.

“You two are to be bonded,” Regis chimes in. “You don’t have to like each other, but your biology says that you are the best match for one another. Whether it be combat, or friendship, or something more – you two will fit perfectly together. Stop acting like children.”

Noctis prickles at that, but says nothing. He hears a low growl from across the room and looks over to see that Gladio’s teeth are bared, though his eyes are on the floor. Another deeper, lower growl emanates from the same direction and hesitation flashes across Gladio’s expression before he finally closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he finishes his exhale, he opens his eyes again and looks back to his father, then to Noctis. He repeats Noctis’s earlier words. “Let’s get this over with, I guess.”

Clarus stays a moment longer, acting as a shield between the Prince and his new Guardian. Eventually, Gladio moves his eyes back to his father and nods. Only then does Clarus finally step aside and say, “We shall leave you two alone for the time being. Sit here and meditate, focus on your Link and solidify your Bond. Please, try not to kill each other in the meantime.”

“No promises,” Noctis says, his voice light in an attempt at a joke. No one laughs. He sighs heavily again and rolls his eyes, finally moving forward to sit down on one side of the rug. Gladio does the same. Within the confines of the rug, and considering Gladio’s _massive_ size, Noctis has to practically rest his knees on top of Gladio’s so that they can both fit. He waits until both Regis and Clarus make their leave and close the door behind them before saying, “Do you really think I’ve done nothing to earn your respect?”

The question is out before he can stop it, and he’s not really sure why he asks. He closes his mouth with a soft _click_ of his teeth snapping shut. Gladio merely shakes his head in response and says, “That’s a question for another time, Prince Noctis. Now please, can we just get this over with?”

Noctis wants to argue, but for the first time tonight, the pair of them are on the same page. The sooner they get this over with, the better. So, following Gladio’s lead, they both close their eyes and begin to concentrate.

Noctis isn’t sure how much time passes – second, minutes – before the hazy feeling from before washes over him. He tries to focus on the feeling, on where it’s coming from and where it’s trying to lead him, but all he can sense is the feeling dragging him down, down, down. It feels as if he’s slowly evaporating and seeping into the floor. While he’d normally be relaxed, something about the feeling is off to him, and he feels himself recoil in panic.

“Don’t fight it,” Gladio mutters.

“It’s… weird,” Noctis answers honestly.

Gladio doesn’t say anything back. Noctis is half-tempted to open his eyes to see what Gladio is doing, but he knows if he does, he’s going to have to start all over. So instead, he focuses back in on the feeling and follows it this time. He focuses on the feeling of his form turning to mist and sinking down, down, down into the floor. He continues sinking and, as he does, he feels the same panic rising in his chest. He feels his heartbeat pick up in his chest, his breathing start to come in small, quicker bursts. He focuses on the feeling, but he can also hear Gladio’s breathing mimic his from across the room.

“What’s happ –“ Noctis starts, but suddenly he’s falling. He’s no longer just sinking into the floor, but falling. The fear grips his chest, causing his breath to catch in his throat, and suddenly, he is no longer in the Room of Bonding. Instead, he is a young boy cowering behind his mother’s skirt with the scent of a burning castle stinging his nostrils.

_No. Not this memory._

He hears the sounds of thunderous footsteps running up the stairs and he clenches harder to his mother’s skirt. She reaches behind her back and grabs one of his hands before turning to him, a gentle smile on her face.

“Noctis, honey,” she says, cupping his face between her hands. “We’re going to play a game, okay? Hide and seek. You go hide the best you can. I’m going to count to ten, then I’m going to come find you, okay? Can you do that for mommy?”

Noctis only nods in response, his attention drawn again to the pounding footsteps outside. His mother pushes him gently and begins counting.

_One. Two. Three._

Noctis runs to the back of the room, towards his closet. He opens the door and steps inside, closing the door as quietly and gently as he can behind him.

_Four. Five. Six._

Noctis hears the sound of the outside door being swung open, then the sound of low, terrible growling. He tries to focus on the sound of his mother counting, but he can barely hear her over the cacophony of noise. The smell of burning is getting stronger, masking her scent even through the thin door of his closet.

_Seven. Eight. Nine._

The growls erupt into loud howls. He hears the sound of rushing footsteps again, followed quickly by a quiet cry of pain. He hears fabric tearing and he covers his ears, trying to block out the rest. Fabric turns to flesh, the soft cry of pain turns to the gurgling of blood as his mother is ripped apart by werewolves.

_Ten._

Silence. The smell of burning is still thick in the air, but there is silence in the room. He doesn’t hear the footsteps of the wolves leaving. He doesn’t hear the door closed behind them. He doesn’t hear is mother counting. He doesn’t hear his mother breathing. He opens the closet door. He sees his mother.

His eyes snap open and he is back in the Room of Bonding. He clutches his chest, heaving deep, shaking breaths. His hands are shaking and his eyes burn with tears. A sob catches in his throat and he runs his free hand up into his hair.

“Breathe, Noctis,” he hears from across from him. He doesn’t know who’s speaking. “You have to breathe.”

He listens to the words, tries to let them calm him. He works on steadying his breath, at reducing his panic. He slowly starts trying to take in his surroundings – he’s in the Room of Bonding, surrounded by paintings and furniture. The fire is stifling warm. There is a man sitting across from him, a massive man, with tear-stained cheeks and watery eyes. The man is watching him as if he would a wounded animal, but is imitating the slow breaths that Noctis should be taking. Noctis focuses on the imitation, trying to center himself again. The man… What’s his name again?

“Gladio,” the man answers, and Noctis’s eyes snap back to his. Noctis hadn’t spoken aloud. How had he answered? “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but I can sense your confusion. You’re looking at me like you don’t know who I am. Do you remember where you are, what we’re doing?”

“W-we’re in the – the Room of Bonding,” Noctis manages to answer, his eyes darting away from Gladio’s gaze. “A-are w-we trying to B-Bond?”

“We are,” Gladio answers simply. He moves forward, touching their knees together again, and reaches forward to grab Noctis’s hand from his chest. Noctis immediately feels like he’s going to implode on himself and feels his panic rising again, only for Gladio to clasp their hands tighter together and whisper, “Shhh, it’s alright. Just focus on our Link again. We have to push through this.”

Noctis doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to experience what he just went through again. He doesn’t want to relive his worst memories, or Gladio’s worst memories. He had known this could be part of the process, but.. why so vivid? It had been like he was _there_ again.

“I don’t want to go back there again,” Noctis whimpers.

“Just one more time,” Gladio assures. “We just need to sink one more time, then hold on. Ready?”

Noctis doesn’t answer. Instead, he just lets his eyes close and he focuses on the hazy feeling still coursing through him. He follows the Link down again, focusing on the sinking sensation in his bones. Eventually, he begins to fall again. This time, though, he doesn’t experience a memory. He doesn’t get a vivid vision of what’s happening in their Link, but he does pick up on Gladio’s emotions – fear, doubt, anger, pain. He feels all of them, reacts to all of them and feels them, too. He doesn’t know what memory Gladio is seeing and honestly, after what he had seen himself, he doesn’t want to. Instead, he just focuses on their Link, on strengthening it. He tries his best to guide Gladio through the memories he’s feeling until suddenly, his eyes open. He’s not sure how he knows, but when his eyes open, they immediately find Gladio’s. The larger man is gritting his teeth, fighting off the same sort of emotions Noctis had been feeling earlier. Through their ever-growing Link, Noctic feels every emotion coursing through Gladio’s body and, despite how much he had disliked the man earlier, he feels the need to comfort him.

“Gladio,” Noctis pries. “Gladio, it’s okay.”

Anger. Hatred. Seething. Fear. Pain. Loss. He goes through the whole scale of emotions once more before he works on steadying his breath. Noctis eases him through the emotions before they both are sitting, staring at one another. The hazy feeling Noctis had felt earlier was gone, replaced instead by a clarity he hadn’t thought possible. He can _feel_ the things Gladio is feeling. He can’t sense his thoughts – their Link isn’t that strong yet – but he knows exactly what emotion Gladio is feeling at any given moment. Right now, they both are both sitting still – apprehensive, but content.

“Is that it?” Noctis asks.

“We have to seal it,” Gladio says. “Otherwise, this will all have been for nothing. Here.”

As he finishes speaking, he brings the palm of his hand up to his mouth and bites a small hole into the tender flesh – just enough to draw a small amount of blood. He holds his bleeding palm out to Noctis and says, “Drink.”

Noctis feels his stomach roll. Normally, it’s forbidden to drink from a Guardian. There can be strange side effects on a vampire, depending on how much blood is taken. But in order to seal the Bonding, in order to solidify their Link, it’s known that occasionally, a Ward will have to drink from their new Guardian.

Noctis’s hesitation only lasts a moment. He’s tired of the constant wave of emotions he’s feeling, he’s tired of being in this room. He doesn’t even know how long they’ve been here at this point. No one had come check on them yet, so he knows it’s been under an hour, but he still can’t shake off the feeling that it’s been _days_.

Slowly, Noctis leans forward and licks the blood from Gladio’s palm.

It’s a single droplet, but the sensation that courses through Noctis’s body is more intense than anything he’s ever felt. He feels a surge of strength and adrenaline course through his system like a shock of lightning. It takes everything in his power not to grab Gladio’s wrist and demand more. He groans and closes his eyes, sitting back and holding his head in his hands.

“That good, huh?” Gladio asks. Noctis can hear the thick layer of teasing to the Guardian’s voice.

“Shut up,” Noctis retorts, lifting his head and narrowing his eyes. He feels a rush of amusement in the back of his mind and knows the emotion does not belong to him. “Don’t act so self-satisfied, either.”

“Or what? You’re gonna bite me?”

Suddenly, every intense emotion Noctis has felt in the past few moments disappears and is replaced entirely by annoyance. This is why he didn’t want to have a Bond with Gladio in the first place. “You’re annoying.”

“Why? Just because I treat you like a normal person and don’t bow to you just because you’re a ‘Prince’? You know, I am too, in a way, and you haven’t shown me a single shred of the respect you seem to want so desperately, either.”

Noctis scoffs and runs his fingers back through his hair, brushing it out of the way as he turns his eyes to Gladio. “You started it.”

“Are we five?”

“Might as well be,” Noctis replies, finishing the sentence with a yawn. He stretches along with the yawn then slowly works on staning up. “Anyway, I’m tired. I’m going to nap. Go do… whatever it is you wolves do.”

Gladio chuckles and shakes his head, following suit with Noctis and standing. “You mean be an actual productive member of society and not sleep my day away?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Noctis says again, waving his hand vacantly. He feels drained. Everyone had told him the Bonding Ceremony would take a lot out of him, but he feels like he hasn’t gotten proper rest in weeks.

The pair fall in silence as they leave the room. With a gentle click as the door closes behind them, they turn and wave goodbye before heading their separate ways.

_‘This is going to be… interesting,’_ Noctis thinks to himself before letting out another yawn. He turns in the direction of his room, ignoring requests from his father, Ignis, and Prompto about how the Bonding Ceremony had gone. Apparently, he looks tired or disinterested enough that none of them pressure him to answer. He makes it to his room in record time and immediately undresses from his suit before walking over and falling face-first into his bed.

‘ _Interesting indeed,’_ he hears in his head, and he knows the thought is not his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, this chapter was so much fun to write! *Chanting* Angst, angst, angst, angst, angst!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3
> 
> If you'd like to follow more regular updates, or get little sneak-peeks into my work, feel free to follow my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_daimonas).

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work I've published I feel like in over a year OTL Please spare me if it's not great.
> 
> BUT ANYWAY. I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING THIS. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! As stated in the description of my fic, this is just my excuse to tap into my 13-year-old self's love of vampire stories, combined with my 25-year-old self's love of werewolves and ABO fanfiction. With that being said, the ABO dynamics are going to be very minor and only specific to the werewolves, so if you aren't here for that, you won't have to worry about it! Trying to write this as a fic for everyone!
> 
> I am thankful for everyone that has decided to read this and join me on this journey. I'm so excited to have you here. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated! Please let me know what you think <3
> 
> Looking forward to writing more. See you all next chapter!
> 
> Want to be kept in the know about updates? Feel free to follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_daimonas).


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